


Certain as the Sun

by lucycamui



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, a beauty & the beast retelling, in which beast yuuri is a sweetheart but still gets cursed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 13:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycamui/pseuds/lucycamui
Summary: In a tale as old as time, the beautiful Victor strives for an escape from his provincial town.  Instead, he finds himself entangled in trying to help the mysterious and... cute(??) beast break his curse, and in doing so discovers that there really might be more to life and love.Written for yoifantasyzine





	Certain as the Sun

For as long as Victor could recall, tales of the beast proliferated through the village. A prince whose family once ruled the land, now trapped within the castle walls and encased by his barrier of beautiful, fiercely thorned blue roses, in exchange for which a baron had promised a coach filled with gold. Yet none dared venture, the village living in fear of a beast that none would admit that they had seen. A fairytale, meant to keep children out of the woods, run amok. All to his benefit, for none would act as competition. 

Snow crunched underfoot, crystalline. Victor shivered in his heavy cloak, chill sweeping through him. He kept his head tipped low, so that the wind would not beat his cheeks rosy. Step by step, left before right. A hood covered his silver hair as he made his way through the woods, counting his steps, making sure that each footfall was directly in front of the last. To go in circles would spell out certain death, lost in the thicket, his bones chilled by the snowstorm beating down. He refused to fall, not to a storm and not to a beast. An armful of roses and he could finally buy his coach out to a grander life than the one in the little town full of little people, where every morning was just the same. 

Victor was not about to take the other route, of accepting the proposal to give his hand in marriage, unfond of his suitor's signature _style_. Huffing, Victor tugged his cloak in tighter around himself. What a beautiful couple they would make, everyone said. As if Victor would let himself be wed to a man who, for some reason, kept painting his own name on his arm. 

For what purpose?! In case he forgot? What did the JJ stand for, anyway? John Jefferson? Jack Jacobs? Perhaps actually just Jay Jay. At the very least, Victor was certain it was not Jean Jeans, for Victor had once called him that and was met by an hour of hopeless moping and lament, then a _song_ of all things.

The snow before him turned to ice and Victor stopped. He had made his way through the vast, pathless, unforgiving woods and found himself before towering wrought iron gates, overgrown in vines. Through the blur of the raging storm, spiralling towers rose into the sky, draped in a blanket of snow. Even in the darkness, crystals twinkled off looming windows, beautiful with their stained glass. An ice castle, with no light of life flickering inside. 

Victor clasped his hands together and blew warmth into his gloves before he gripped the iron of the gates. He did push once, for good measure, but they did not budge, woven shut by the overgrowth and frozen by the frost. Hand over hand, he scaled the gates, footing light and steady, tempting no chance to slip. As Victor cautiously pulled himself over the high gates, he could have laughed. Such dread had loomed over the village and for what. Let Jumbo Jackass or what be his name see the town beauty now. Just because his hair grew fine and long, and his fair features gathered him praise for his graceful looks did not mean he was demure by nature. 

He landed sure-footed within the castle grounds. Apart from the howling wind rattling through his fabrics, not a sound nor soul stirred. All laid thick with snow, unbroken, undisturbed, only the elements at his opposition as Victor made his way inside the castle walls.

He searched, heart pounding rhythms, for the gardens in which the roses were said to always bloom. He was vigilant, dusting snow off mounds, revealing statues of carved marble, stilled fountains in which no birds could bathe, the dull of deceased shrubbery. He searched under the shadows of the towers, over covered cobbled paths, his fingers bitten brittle with each swipe at powdered white, hope for mythed blossoms fading bit by bit. 

It was at the castle's rear that he came upon the gardens, his body beaten by the blizzard. He would have not known it, amongst the prevailing white, if not for the gleam of brilliant blue like a beacon at the heart. While all else had been dominated by snow, the roses thrived, untouched. With petals like glowing silk, they beckoned and Victor approached, heart a rabbit's in his chest. 

As he neared, the flowers seemed to spread, opening in invitation, perfume bidding him welcome. His weight in gold. Victor slipped a knife from his cloak, dropping to cut the stems. Thorns grew like daggers, nicking at his gloves despite his care as he collected bloom by bloom until twelve counted in his arms. He cut a few to spare and stood, ready to depart with his spoils when he saw the blossom at the center. The only one not in bloom. 

Its blue petals were wrapped tight and wilting, yet it beckoned to Victor, as if he would find the moon itself contained within. The flowers surrounding it glistened with the ice flakes riding them, yet neither wind nor snow seemed to touch the rose. The edges of the flower glowed, silver dancing off the lining of the petals, filling his eyes with a glittering light that drew him in. As Victor reached for the rose, the others around it leaned away, their leaves and thorns shrinking to grant him an opening to the bud. The wind blew off his hood, his hair escaping from its tuck within the cloak and billowing about him. His fingertips brushed blue.

“Don’t touch that!”

Victor snapped back, the booming growl striking him like a weight. He whipped around and yelped. A beast was at his back. 

Fur of midnight blue covered its face, and glaring eyes bled bronze like the rusted castle gates. A ram’s horns sprang from its head, bearing down on Victor, threatening to spear him through. Its dark lips curled into a snarl, baring fangs sharp and stark white. It stood tall, so tall, a full head over Victor, grisly clawed feet sunk deep into the snow beneath. 

“What are you doing?!” The beast’s voice shook the frost from the bushes. 

Victor clutched the roses and ran. He made it two steps, jerked to a halt as pain ripped through his scalp. His feet skidded on ice and he fell, landing hard, stone path jutting at his hip bone. He tried to twist away, but he couldn’t. His hair was caught, seized by the beast. Shouting in protest, Victor yanked around to beat it off with the bundle of roses — except the beast had not grabbed him. Locks of silver had snagged on the thorns of the rose bushes, tangled in so deeply it looked like Victor himself had bloomed from them. 

The beast approached and Victor could not scramble away. This would be how he met his end. Frozen in the snow, dead in a bed of blue roses. At least, he would still be beautiful. Long curved claws reached for him. Victor grappled, fumbling inside his cloak for his knife. It slipped from his fingers, once, twice, Victor’s heart beating its own funeral march as he finally latched on and ripped it out, blade pointed at the beast that stood towering over him. Victor’s ragged breaths panted steam into the air.

The claws reached not for him, but for the bushes. Victor’s eyes locked on as the beast detangled his hair, moving delicately amongst the roses. Indisputable expertise permitted it to avoid the thorns and not disturb the flowers. Strand by strand was drawn out from where they had been caught. Victor let a soft sound of pain betray him when a rose stem unexpectedly snapped up upon being released from his hair, pulling on remaining strands. 

“Sorry.” The mutter was instantly swept away by the blizzard, so quiet under breath that Victor was certain his imagination supplemented it. Snow loaded Victor’s shoulders, soaking through his cloak, through his trousers where he remained planted on the ground, watching, fascinated by the delicacy of the lumbering beast’s movements. 

His hair was untangled, released. Exhale frozen on his lips, Victor met the beast’s eyes and saw them blinking back, snowflakes caught on long dark lashes. An odd sight indeed, outweighed by the ill-fitted glasses it wore which fogged up around the edges. 

As the worsening blizzard swirled around them, Victor found his senses and leapt up, dropping the roses. He made it not a single step, seized and thrown over the beast’s shoulders. His kicking and yelling was to no avail. He was carried all the way to the castle.

 

* * *

 

Inside the castle was grand, aged, but pristine. Candelabras lined the walls and chandeliers lined the ceiling, but none were lit, bathing their surroundings in darkness. Victor had gone limp in the beast’s hold, because if he could not fight then perhaps he could outsmart. He played dead, but kept his eyes open and adjusting, memorizing each step that he was carried up, a turn down a hallway, one, two, three doors on the left and—

He was thrown into a room. Victor squeezed his eyes shut to keep up his charade, heart betraying him in how it pounded. Well, not thrown. Deposited. Quite gently actually, set down on a mattress. He kept himself from wincing when he felt a claw in his hair. Except it wasn’t in his hair. It cradled the back of his head as the beast laid him down, huffing, its large feet shuffling on carpeted floor.

“Ohhh, my good god, is that a _person?_ Yuuri, you found a person, that’s a person, where did you get a person?!” Another voice, light and excited, certainly not the beast’s. “What did you do, is he dead, did you kill the person, Yuuuuuri, noooo!”

“He was in the garden, he’s not dead, I think I just scared him!” That was the beast’s voice, but the words were not in the same rough growl that had seized Victor outside. Here it was quiet, fleeting, almost panicked. 

“In the garden? He’ll be freezing. If he’s not dead, you’ll kill him!” 

“Shhh, I know, wait a second!” Victor heard stumbling and the sound of metal falling, clanging onto the floor. The beast grunted, moving something. There was the scrap of wood on wood, and a moment later, light flickered into the room, accompanied by warmth at Victor’s feet. “I— there, okay… ummm, I’m gonna… I’m going to tell Yuuko, keep him here!”

“If he was in the blizzard, he’ll be soaking wet, get him some clothes!”

“I know!” 

The door closed and latched, locking Victor inside. He waited, ears keen, to hear the footsteps of whomever it had been inside the room with them but nothing sounded. The room went still, apart from the cackling of burning wood. Victor counted his pulse, slowing as it calmed. He cracked open an eye. No one was around him. He remained still, a minute longer, surveying from the corners of his eyes but nothing moved. 

An in-wall fireplace opposite the bed had been lit, providing the light and warmth. Heavy curtains obscured windows, hanging near from the ceiling. At one side of the room was a wardrobe of polished linden with a streak of redwood down one side, at the other a dark vanity. 

Victor’s shoes touched down on plush carpet as he slipped off the bed. He went to the door first, hands on the handle to test the lock, hoping it had been worn down by years, but it did not budge. Next, he went to the curtains and threw them open, but the glass there was patterned with wrought iron. He could wait. Stand against the wall behind the door, wait for the beast to return and sprint past him when it opened, surely Victor would be the faster runner if he got a head start. He stopped beside the fireplace, warming his back, indeed having been frozen by the storm. 

Perhaps there was something in the room he could use, not likely in the wardrobe but the vanity had drawers. Victor went straight for it, reaching out, and stopped. Because in the gleaming mirror, he did not see his reflection. Instead, he saw another face, good-looking, with dark skin and dark eyes and an amused grin, staring back at him. Yelping, Victor jumped back.

“Hello, welcome. Wondered how long it’d take you to notice! Nice to meet ya!” 

Victor nearly had a heart attack. Instead, he bolted for the door. It opened before he reached it, the beast’s massive form blocking the frame. Victor skidded on the carpet, running face first into a solid chest of fur. Soft. Warm. He was reminded of a fluffy blanket he kept for the coldest nights. Victor leapt back, searching for a space to duck under. 

“Oh, you're up… Are you okay? Please don't be scared!” The beast’s shoulders were scrunched in the doorway, leaving Victor to wonder how it was he had so seamlessly entered when he had been carrying Victor. In his paws, he carried pressed and folded clothing, cautiously held out in offer to Victor. 

“Don’t—... don’t be scared?!” Victor repeated, voice kept relatively steady in his best attempt to convince himself of the same. “I’m being held captive by a beast and there’s a living mirror!”

“He’s actually a vanity,” the beast corrected, in the same rhythm that the mirror behind Victor echoed the sentiment with a declaration of, “ _I’m actually a vanity._ ”

“That was not my point!” Victor’s gaze dropped, figuring if he could get under the beast’s legs and out fast enough to make a break for it. However, he knew nothing of what happened to the roses and it would mean his efforts would be all for naught. 

“You’re not captive, you’re free to leave,” the beast said, shaking his head. His fur tousled and the glasses frames on his nose slipped a degree. He tipped his head to get them back up, paws yet holding the clothing. “But the blizzard is getting worse, so it’s best if you stayed inside till morning and… ummm, I’m having dinner prepared in case you were hungry...” 

“I’m free to leave?” Victor asked, getting a nod in return. The wind did howl outside the windows, gathering strength, the glass itself collecting crystals of ice. If it were true, waiting till the storm passed would be wise and if it wasn’t, well, Victor doubted he had much to lose. He accepted the clothing from the beast, moving to the bed to lay them out. Simple but obviously well-crafted, if not a bit old. Victor shrugged off his coat and stopped his hands on his upper vest buttons. “Do you mind?”

“Ohh, oh no, go ahead, sorry.” The beast ducked his head, as if embarrassed, and turned his back, shuffling out the door with miniscule steps to provide Victor with privacy as he changed. It was almost endearing.

Victor changed out of his snow-soaked clothing, making sure to stay out of the sight of the enchanted vanity. And then, he found himself being led through the vast castle halls in order to dine together with a beast.

 

* * *

 

Victor knew the story of the beast well, at least the one passed around the village. It was said he had been cursed by a witch in punishment for being turned away from the palace doors, sentenced to take on a form as ugly as his manners. Only that could not true, as the beast could not have been a more gracious host and, if Victor dared admit, not at all ugly. 

An exquisite meal of fresh winter vegetables and roasted bird had been served by living kitchenware, at one point an entire stove dragging herself in to deposit the steaming food onto the table before them. Victor had been wary of eating at first, but the beast — whose name he learned to be Yuuri — served them off the same fine china to reassure. The main course completed in terse conversation, tea was then served. The teacup Victor received was alive, grinning at him with moving designs on the porcelain. He was at unease drinking from it and dared say so, receiving a squeak of response that did not match the beast whatsoever. 

Yuuri hastened forward to snatch the teacup away, cradling her in his paws as he hushed some light scolding. He returned with a normal teacup, or else one that could pretend quite well at not being animated, and retook his seat, his eyes on Victor. More than once he looked prepared to ask a question, finally giving in. “Ummm, I did want to ask you why you were… stealing my roses.”

There it was. The only calm Victor had was that his tea smelled of bergamot and not almond. “I wasn’t stealing them.”

“Well, you were in my garden picking them without permission, so I think technically that’s stealing,” the beast said. “People have come to steal them before, but not in such weather.”

Denial difficult, Victor told the truth. “Someone has offered a high price for them in the village, I intended to sell them.”

“What would you do with the money you earned in exchange?”

Victor’s desire to leave was a secret from no one. He had no reason to keep it from Yuuri. “I want to leave the village and travel. There’s more out there than this provincial life and I want to experience it.”

Humming, the beast lifted his teacup. His fingers curled delicately around it, unable to fit in through the finely spun handle, but he raised a pinkie as he sipped. When he set the cup down, Victor noticed his glasses had fogged up with the steam. With a sigh, the beast removed them, wiping them clean with a napkin. “...You can have the roses.”

Victor’s elbow knocked into his teacup, his reflexes barely saving it from flying off the table. “Truly?”

“But I want something in exchange.” Yuuri sipped his tea again, making sure this time that his glasses were pushed far enough up to avoid the steam. “As you see, this castle is under a spell. The witch that cursed me did it because I prevented him from finding his love, so I am to stay in this form until I find mine. But I’ve stayed hidden in this castle for so long I wouldn’t even know where to begin. If you stay and show me how I might be able to find such a thing looking like this, then you can have the roses.”

Victor listened carefully, considering. “Are you a prince?” The beast nodded. “So, you want for me to teach you to be charming?” Another nod. Victor smiled. Standing from his seat, he smoothed down his clothing, and walked over to the beast. He held out his hand in offer. The beast blinked at him, with those honey brown eyes, then accepted it to shake. Instead, Victor dipped into a bow and kissed the top of the paw. “Deal.”

 

* * *

 

The following morning, Victor had no time to admire the grand library to which he was escorted by a rather flirtatious candle holder, attention tuned to the awaiting beast. The blizzard had yet to pass completely, but Yuuri appeared smaller and far less intimidating in the daylight. When he walked, his clawed feet padded lightly, his ears having perked at Victor’s entrance. 

“We should begin with first impressions, which are going to be highly of value to you.” Victor had put his mind to considering the kind of lessons he could offer to the beast. Over dinner and after, Yuuri had been perfectly polite, which meant they were not starting from scratch. However he did seem nervous and shy, stumbling words and taking considerable time in his responses. “Perhaps, it could be important that you don’t _throw people over your shoulder when you want to invite them in.”_

“I hope that won’t be necessary, assuming that those I meet in the future won’t be thieving,” Yuuri replied so sharply Victor could have cut himself on the retort if he were not careful. 

Instead, Victor smiled, making a mental note. “Apologies. But my point still stands, looking as you do, your approach will be of most importance which means your body language will need to be open and friendly and not one that scares people off.”

Yuuri’s ears twitched and pinned back against his head. He listened, however, following through with each of Victor’s instructions, producing a notebook from a pocket to scribble notes in. Yuuri, as it turned out, was a good student, if not a demanding one. They worked together on how to best adjust Yuuri’s posture, so that he could approach in a manner that neither made him look nervous nor threatening. Victor had to tip up onto his toes to pull Yuuri’s shoulders back, then drop down to nudge his legs in, then stand back up to tilt Yuuri’s chin. Yuuri broke into giggles at that point and Victor scolded him to keep a straight face. 

Midway through, Yuuri muttered a request, wanting to imitate the manner in which Victor had taken his paw the previous evening. Victor showed him how to offer a hand in greeting, palm up, in order to smoothly draw it in for a kiss. He did end up advising Yuuri to trim the nails on his paws after nicking his wrist on them. Yuuri hastily retreated, hiding them behind his back.

Yuuri was not graceful in all his movements, but it seemed to be attributed more to nerves than his ability. His glasses kept slipping down his nose and he fumbled fixing them. When Victor suggested adding a flirty line to the kiss, that broke Yuuri altogether. The attempt botched badly, Yuuri stammered over the words, gripping Victor’s hand hard enough to crack his knuckles. 

Jumping, Yuuri ducked his head and cracked his forehead against Victor’s. Both their hands flew up to rub the sore spots, Yuuri dropping apology after apology as Victor groaned. One of Yuuri’s horns had clipped him, snagging strands of his hair. Victor took it upon himself to untangle them this time, meeting Yuuri’s eyes over the frame of his glasses. He flickered his own upward.

"Can I...?" Victor asked, hesitation stretching his words, silence trailing off after them. To say he had been tempted was an understatement greater than the sun itself, which had broken through the windows to shine off the dark tufts of Yuuri's fur. 

"Oh." The puff of air from Yuuri's mouth was short and hitched, equivalent of a blush lost to fur. "Yeah— Yes, if you want."

Victor let his hands hover. It felt like something forbidden, to touch a beast, a prince, with reasoning being only that he wanted to. A clock ticked through the silence, rhythm disrupted by how fast Victor's heart began to beat. He took hold of Yuuri's horns.  

Neither smooth nor polished, they rubbed rough against his skin, ridged as he traced the curl. Yuuri watched him over the rim of his glasses, unmoving as Victor swept the pad of his thumbs across the pointed ends. Sharp, but not enough to pierce skin. Victor’s fingers wrapped around the base, thick enough that he could not close his grip around them. He smiled when Yuuri's ears twitched. 

Fur brushed against his hands and Victor snuck his fingers into the curls. Unlike the horns, his fur was silken. Up close, he noticed undertones of blue shining off the black. Specks of highlight reflected like glitter as Victor smoothed his touch down the side of Yuuri's face. Soft. Victor fought the urge to nuzzle in, to bury his face in Yuuri's fur because of how soothing it felt against his skin. 

Yuuri was motionless, breathless, tension in his shoulders as Victor stroked gently along his cheeks, to wear the black turned blue, and then up to the arches above his brows, where pink was dusted. Victor had heard, from those that had met the prince before his curse, that he had been blessed with looks before transforming into a beast. How they had lied. "You're beautiful." 

Yuuri jumped, tearing out of Victor's touch. His clawed feet tripped out from under him, carving deep scores into the floor. "I— Umm, I have to go." His voice slipped into a growl and he slapped his paws over his mouth, scrambling for the doors. He almost missed the corner, turning sharp, his horns smacking against the frame. 

Victor covered his mouth to conceal his laughter, which was only made harder by the tiny "ow" he heard echoing from the hall. He fell back, his hair splayed out beneath him, hands bunched over his heart. It was beating far too fast.

 

* * *

 

The sun set and rose. Before the week was up, Yuuri had managed to take and kiss Victor’s hand in greeting in a manner so flawless that Victor grew jealous of it. Victor instructed Yuuri in conversation, telling him it was best simply to ask his partner all manners of things about them, allowing the conversation to flow without his nerves or hesitation maring progress. It was true that Yuuri was not charming in the conventional manner. Yet Victor found himself delighting in the beast’s presence all the same. 

After the blizzard passed, they ventured outside, where a pond on the castle grounds had frozen over. Victor had been excited to try a bit of ice skating, so that Yuuri might practice his courting mannerisms on an afternoon out. They failed to account for the thickness of the ice and their combined weight, falling through the moment Victor had pulled an uncertain Yuuri onto the ice. They ended up bundled in blankets sitting by a roaring fireplace, with the living candle at their backs making comments about how things were, “ _heating up between them.”_  Nothing of the sort, but Yuuri’s fur did look delightfully poofy after he had rubbed it dry on towels. Victor’s comment pointing out such earned him a bunched towel to the face and a smile which he found lovely. 

Day by day, Victor learned a little more about the castle and the magic it was under. While Yuuri did not speak of it much, the furniture gossiped to Victor with less of a filter. He was informed that a decade prior, the young prince had been left under the supervision of the castle servants as his family traveled to a neighboring province. Late one evening, a stranger gleaming with velveted purple magic had come pounding on the castle doors, claiming to be in search of a runaway love and requesting permission to look for her on the castle grounds. Yuuri, obeying the instructions of his parents to permit no stranger inside, had politely refused. The witch had cursed him in anger, the spell affecting all those inhabiting the castle and so they had stayed. 

In the mornings, Victor would often find Yuuri in the gardens, tending to his roses, taking utmost care not to trample on any flowers or grass underfoot. Victor noticed how the one at the center bloomed a little more each day, the glow around its petals strengthening. When the sun broke through the clouds, warming the air a degree, Victor could not hold back his laughs of delight upon seeing sparrows land on Yuuri’s horns, riding around as the beast puttered around the gardens and fed them seeds. Given permission to pick winter blossoms, Victor wove a crown of flowers around his horns and then had to apologize profusely when bees chased after the primroses. Yuuri’s pained eyes did Victor in completely as he rubbed an ointment on that swollen kitten nose. 

In the afternoons, they continued their lessons. Yuuri’s confidence came and went — it went entirely the day of the bee sting — but the days that Victor found himself distracted by Yuuri’s shy smiles and charming greetings increased steadily. Once Yuuri grew comfortable in holding Victor’s hand, they began dance classes, a requirement for anyone of noble status who wished to woo a potential love. They both ended up with sore and bruised feet the first week, missteps ending with Victor’s boot heels on Yuuri’s toes, Yuuri’s clawed feet hooking into Victor’s ankles. They persevered and before long, they could manage a song without stumbling. 

In the evenings, Victor found time to relax in the vast library. He had expected the books on the shelves to lift away with heavy layers of dust, but Yuuri had shuffled in not long after to join him. Years spent alone in a castle, Victor should have not been surprised to learn that Yuuri had read every volume on display. Inviting Yuuri to sit with him in a cushioned nook, they read together, one evening the same tale, another those which were different. Victor caught Yuuri’s eyes shifting to the pages of his book more than once, watching his progress, and reached over to playfully flip at the pages of Yuuri’s. With each novel, they shifted closer together until their shoulders met as they rested, until Victor dozed off, soothed by the soft pillow of Yuuri’s fur. He stirred only when the clock struck late and Yuuri scrambled away upon noticing that Victor’s eyes had lifted. 

When nights settled, Yuuri practiced goodbyes and the type of break away where their hands held on till the very last second, fingers brushing along each other’s to linger on the tips like neither wished to part for the night. Victor went to bed with a smile every time, throwing a blanket over the vanity to muffle its gleeful snickers. When he dreamt, his dreams continued to be those of travel, but bit by bit, they came to include a companion at his side, one with honey sweet eyes behind ill-fitted glasses. 

 

* * *

 

Snowdrops broke through the soil, peeking between the roses, their white far too plain amongst the sapphire blues. The magic rose was near in full bloom, the glow turned to a shimmer, shining brilliantly. When Victor had asked Yuuri what role the rose played in his curse, Yuuri’s ears had twitched and his nose scrunched, head ducking as his feet shuffled and he muttered something incomprehensible before wandering off in completely the wrong direction. Victor had chuckled at the sight, smile sore on his cheeks. Somehow, the beast’s charm lessons had been effective to a fault. Victor was smitten.

Yuuri grew sweeter by the day and Victor’s heart grew heavier until the final evening came to pass. A coat rack brought Victor formal wear, a suit of royal tyrian and stitchings of silver. He braided back his hair, a chuckle at the back of his throat when the vanity whistled in compliment. His “ _thanks Phichit”_ was met with a _“go dance that beasty off his feet.”_  He wanted to.

The ballroom was illuminated by the sparkle of chandeliers, bouquets of flowers from the gardens wafting their sweet aroma. Victor was amused by the furniture in the corner, all of which carried instruments. And there was Yuuri, looking nervous with his paws clenched in front of him, dressed in fine velvet blues that matched the frames of his glasses. When Victor approached, Yuuri swept into a bow which Victor echoed. His hand was taken and Victor could feel the slight tremble in Yuuri as he brought it to his lips, a kiss delicate on Victor’s knuckles. One last night, to test Yuuri’s charms, and then they would go their separate ways. Victor with his dozen roses, finally able to pursue a grander life. Yuuri to find his love and break the curse that kept him as a beast. 

Victor had long stopped considering him to be beastly. Yuuri was nothing of the sort and the world would be sure to see that if they gave him only half a chance. Yuuri led him, as practiced, to the ballroom floor. Victor squeezed his hand in reassurance, hoping to calm his nerves. “Did you polish your horns?” he asked, smiling while gazing up. They shimmered under the chandeliers. 

“The triplets did it.” The image of the teacups perched on Yuuri’s horns, buffing them to perfection filled Victor with delight. 

“And the flowers?” Tucked into Yuuri’s sleek fur, inside the curls of his polished horns, were blue roses. Victor reached up to touch the silken petals, fingers tracing Yuuri’s horns. “They do suit you very well, my prince.”

Yuuri jumped, paw shooting up, unaware of his decorations. He fumbled, confirming their presence but left them undisturbed.

Laughing, Victor set his hand over Yuuri’s and drew it down. “I like them. They’re quite charming.” 

Yuuri scowled at him, but it was in such obviously teasing manner that it had Victor sparking all the more. Yuuri normally tried so hard to be proper, but seeing him break that was something that Victor looked forward to. “Since I’m supposed to be the one charming you, that’s good,” Yuuri replied, taking a breath to settle himself. With a quick glance at the ensemble, he nodded. The furniture clambered to position their instruments, the first notes of strings vibrating through the ballroom. “May I have this dance?”

“I intended to give it to no one else.” 

Dancing with Yuuri had been clumsy at first, when they had begun practicing. Frustrations had built between them, between the bruised toes, between the mistakes and steps not followed. Yet, despite it, Yuuri’s disappointment and irritation were always directed at himself, with no blame assigned to Victor, even when it should have been. Instead, he had kept going, until Victor could see that he was weak from exhaustion, tired of repeating dances while reciting flirty lines that never quite fit his character. Victor was far more fond of the Yuuri whose blush could not show through his fur but who made it obvious when he was anyway, who tiptoed when he wanted to be quiet, who danced like he was making music when he had finally learned how to follow the flow. 

That Yuuri was who led Victor now, in sweeping steps to the melody swirling around them. Victor could envision it, the kind of balls the castle could hold, the prince dancing with his chosen. Glitz and glamor, yet Victor preferred this. The music carried them as they made use of the entire room, fingers laced though it was not best for a waltz. Victor’s left hand stayed on the fine material of Yuuri’s jacket, while Yuuri’s arm cradled his back, their bodies close. The floor was solid beneath their feet and the winter night draped the windows in her darkness, but Victor felt like they were dancing on midsummer clouds at high noon, weightless and warm in Yuuri’s hold. The grace with which Yuuri dipped him and the beauty of his laugh when it was Victor who tipped back so far he nearly sent them tumbling, it had him reeling. Victor had spent his days dreaming of something more, convinced it laid in a land far away. Perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps that something to light up his life was within reach, right before his eyes.  

Light poured off Yuuri, his smile brighter than the chandeliers as he held Victor up, preventing him from falling. Too little too late. Victor had already fallen, for the gentle beast that he had agreed to help find love. How unexpected. All around them, the music continued to play, strings and percussion, the comfort of fading piano that could carry them through till the morning. 

“Well… have I swept you off your feet?” The uncertainty in Yuuri’s voice did not belong there.

“Completely.” 

Hesitation held Yuuri, different from those of prior days, the kind that laced anticipation which came with a risk. Victor’s fingers curled over Yuuri’s shoulder. If Yuuri wanted to, he could so easily release Victor, drop him onto the harsh reality of the hardwood beneath. A jolt, a shock, to pierce through both of them. But he did not let go. “...Did you still want your roses?” 

“Yes.” Undoubtedly. Victor would not leave without a memory to take along. “But I want you to come with me. We can find your love together.”

“I think I might have already found it...”

Honey sweet eyes behind ill-fitted frames, words so genuine that Victor knew only to laugh and cup Yuuri’s face in his hands. “See, we really have made a charmer out of you. My Prince Charming.” Tipping up, Victor pressed his lips to the bridge of Yuuri’s nose, smiling through his boldness. While the frames of his glasses were cool, Victor could feel the heat of his blush. Far from a fairytale kiss, yet the light pouring off Yuuri intensified so brilliantly that Victor could see it glowing all around him... Genuinely.

From the roses woven into his fur, magic of sapphire blue streamed in glittering ribbons. It wrapped around his horns and coursed down his arms, tingling through Victor where it came in contact. Victor grabbed onto Yuuri, grounding him, the both of them wide-eyed. Yuuri was enveloped, the glow sinking into his clothing, his fur, his skin, fading slow. The ticking minute of living grandfather clock passed, and the magic exploded from Yuuri in an overwhelming warmth that felt so much like love. 

Victor found himself looking at nothing, the blue which had enveloped everything dimming. For a moment, Victor was startled, thinking Yuuri to be gone, only to realize that his hands were still being held. Not by oversized paws, but by hands smaller than his own, slender fingers which threaded into his as if no better fit existed. 

“Victor…” That voice was still the same, calling to him, and Victor dropped his gaze. Dark hair, smooth skin adorned by the palest dusting of pink, and honey brown eyes behind frames which were no longer ill-fitted. Yuuri. With the most beautiful, most uncertain smile on his face. If beast Yuuri had been cute, human Yuuri would surely kill Victor with his sweetness. 

“You’re shorter than me,” Victor stated obviously. He had gotten so used to standing on his toes around Yuuri. 

“Oh… umm, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it — is that bad, I could wear lifts or heels or—” 

Victor silenced his darling, stammering, charming Yuuri by cupping his face and leaning down to slot their mouths together. No hesitation left to stun him, Yuuri threw his arms around Victor, still glittering with the remnants of broken magic and eager to respond. 

There. There it was. The fairytale kiss. It was not perfect, with laughter turning to the joyfullest of tears, lips clashing, unfamiliar with one another’s and yet eager to learn. Not perfect and yet so, leading them straight into happily ever after. 

**Author's Note:**

> [CC's collaborating artwork](https://crimson-chains.tumblr.com/post/181725296685/were-allowed-to-post-our-fantasy-zine-pieces-now)


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